


Loose Lips Sink Welsh Ships

by swampslip



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Arthur, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Blind Betrayal, Pre-Relationship, Puppy Crushes, arthur gains Critical Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “How do you do that?” Arthur asks quietly, “Be so certain.”“My beliefs are my own,” Garvey says mildly, not looking at Arthur, “I don’t need to question them, I decided them.”
Relationships: Preston Garvey/Arthur Maxson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Loose Lips Sink Welsh Ships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Munchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munchy/gifts).



> for the lovely lovely munchy, who also did an art piece paired with this [here](https://m-u-n-c-h-y.tumblr.com/post/630966207470764032/m-u-n-c-h-y-this-piece-was-done-for)
> 
> <333

There’s an unyielding _burn_ in Arthur’s chest, in every movement since his last glimpse of Danse.

Nothing seems to dampen it.

No distraction strong enough to pull him away.

His stomach rolls with the specific fear of having made a mistake, but every time he tries to draw that theory to the front of his mind…

Tries to thoroughly dissect, rationalize, and reassure himself that he did exactly what was right in the moment-

It’s like a lure tangled in rubbish at the bottom of a lake.

Rusted, algae-covered, long-discarded trash catching it and keeping him from bringing that insolent _question_ to the surface.

He knows this doubt is a flame that can only be fought with a stronger blaze.

\--

Arthur nudges the glass back and forth incrementally on the bartop. 

Sliding it through the pool of condensation… 

He had a napkin, at some point.

During drink three, or so.

He feels a bit more hooch than human, right now, frowning harshly at his silhouette reflected in the glass. 

Caps clink in his jacket pocket as he shifts on the barstool, restless in his attempt at mental avoidance of this afternoon.

“Man… I don’t think you should be seen like this.”

“Hm?” Arthur lifts his head from staring deep into his whiskey and sees Colonel Garvey standing next to him, “Oh… Hello.”

Garvey huffs and the older man’s nose wrinkles as he looks down at Arthur before glancing around the bar. 

“You couldn’t drink yourself into oblivion in your rooms?” Garvey mutters quietly. 

“I’m not drunk,” Arthur huffs with the same amount of disdain Garvey is affording him, leaning back to squint at the hazy image of the older man. 

Garvey frowns at him and looks away at something and Arthur thinks that might be it for them tonight.

That Garvey will drop it and leave him to drink until he can’t even attempt to acknowledge his loneliness. 

“Come on,” Garvey says quietly and there’s a warm touch on Arthur’s back, under his shoulder blade, long fingers aligning with his ribs. 

“No- What?” Arthur squirms away from the touch but Garvey ends up being stronger than he looks. 

Or maybe it’s because Arthur feels a bit out of his body, that’s why Garvey has no trouble slinging an arm around him and attempting to inconspicuously march Arthur out of the tavern. 

“I didn’t pay-”

“I did,” Garvey sighs and nudges Arthur out into the night as he closes the door behind them, “It’s fine.”

“Why did _you_ pay?” Arthur struggles away from the older man and leans forward slightly as his head spins.

“’Cause, you’d had enough,” Garvey says slowly, in a patient tone, “Now we’re going back to the ship.”

He tugs on Arthur’s shirt to get the younger to straighten back up, glancing down the way to see if anyone is paying particular attention to them. 

“What are you?” Arthur mutters roughly, “My keeper?”

“Tonight, yes,” The older man says softly, “So you don’t drown in your regret.”

“Regret?”

Garvey just gives him a knowing look and gestures forward.

\--

“Where are you taking me?” Arthur asks as he walks, slightly behind the older man.

“To the ship.”

“Why?”

Arthur can see the silhouette of Garvey’s face form a grimace and frowns heavily at the older man, brows furrowed. 

“What?” Arthur takes a few quick steps to catch up to the older man, “Did something happen?”

“You really want to be seen like this?” Garvey gestures at him widely and Arthur blinks as the offense rocks him forward, “You tossed aside one of your best soldiers then went out and drank the bar dry. I don’t think that’s a great look, _Elder Maxson_.”

Arthur stares at the older man and feels the defensiveness rising in him, the rules, the set way that everything is supposed to make sense rising in him.

The Institute is bad, synths are bad, therefore, Danse had to go. 

How could the Brotherhood trust a synth?

How could Arthur?

How _did_ Arthur?

“You alright?” Garvey asks warily, watching Arthur’s expression cycle between emotions. 

“… Yes,” Arthur says hoarsely.

“Okay… Okay,” Garvey takes a step closer and cautiously wraps an arm behind Arthur’s shoulder, gesturing up the road again, “Let’s get you back to your room.”

Arthur lets the younger man lead him for several minutes before looking down at the finger’s curling around his upper arm. 

“He betrayed me,” Arthur says weakly, watching the fingers flex. 

“No, he didn’t.”

“Everything we believe in, and he’s just a direct conflict of interest.”

“… A ‘conflict of interest’?” Garvey mutters incredulously under his breath, “He was your ally.”

“It’s a _synth_ ,” Arthur says hoarsely, “How could a synth be an ally?”

“ _He,”_ Garvey says pointedly, “Was your friend.”

“No… No, it lied to me.”

“He didn’t.”

“He _did_.”

“I couldn’t have imagined you’d be more annoying when drunk, but here we are.”

Arthur frowns at him and leans away slightly. 

“Would you trust a synth?” Arthur whispers.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Who they are,” Garvey says slowly, “What they’ve done to prove they’re not against my interests.”

“… Danse almost never let me down.”

“Of course not,” Garvey says harshly, “He believed you, believed _in_ you.” 

“Did he?” Arthur mutters, brows furrowing, “Could he? Can you believe in something at the expense of yourself?”

“Of course you can,” Garvey mutters back, “That’s half of human decency.” 

“But he isn’t human.”

“He didn’t know that,” Garvey says, “For all it matters, he thought like a human, he cares like one, he has ambitions like one, dreams, motivations. How is that any different than you or me?”

“How do you do that?” Arthur asks quietly, “Be so _certain_.”

“My beliefs are my own,” Garvey says mildly, not looking at Arthur, “I don’t need to question them, I decided them.”

It takes a moment for Arthur to wrap his head around that and fully understand what the older man means. 

It cuts into him, but he can’t argue it. 

“… I had to,” Arthur says hoarsely.

“I don’t think you _had_ to do anything,” Garvey says, “But you chose to.”

“If I had… Even if I let him stay-” Arthur clears his throat and pulls away again, making a sharp gesture between them, “He wouldn’t have been safe.”

Garvey just frowns at the younger man. 

“I-” Arthur lets out a slow breath and shakes his head, “I had to let him go.”

“You chose to,” Garvey says lightly, “Regardless of your… Your motivation, it was a _choice_.”

“What would you have done?”

“I wouldn’t have stayed this long, to begin with.”

Arthur grumbles quietly but starts walking again, Garvey slowly moving to join him. 

“You couldn’t know that,” Arthur mutters. 

“You asked.”

“In theory, you can think you’d do something, but-”

“Maxson,” Garvey says sharply, “I _know_.”

“… You are steadfast in your beliefs.”

“I’m not,” Garvey mutters, “But I have a cause, and that cause carried me.”

“… I think you’re underselling yourself.”

Garvey turns his head and looks at Arthur from under the brim of his hat. 

“You’re like a storybook hero,” Arthur huffs, “You persisted under a tattered flag, with a practically meaningless title, just to pursue a cause that you believed in.”

When the older man doesn’t respond Arthur barrels on, his stomach churning.

“No notoriety, no payment, no endgame, just that same idea of… Of protecting people.”

“It’s more than-”

“I think that’s why I love you,” Arthur mutters soberly, looking up at the night sky, “You’re loyal to a dream, despite everything.” 

“… _What?”_ Preston asks hoarsely and Arthur blinks when he realizes the older man is no longer beside him, turning around to see Preston stopped in the road a few yards back. 

“What?”

“You… You-” Preston makes a sound of incredulity and gestures at the younger man as though it could convey the hundreds of questions flooding his mind in response to just three words from Arthur’s mouth, “You are _so_ drunk.”

“I… Yeah,” Arthur admits quietly, “Why are you way back there?”

“I’m-” Preston stares at him then shakes his head and takes a few quick strides to catch up, “Nothing. No reason.”

“Am I wrong?”

“… How am I supposed to know?”

“I mean-” Arthur’s brows furrow and he gestures vaguely in front of him, “How you decide things.”

“I don’t think I decide what to all that differently from most people,” Preston says slowly, “I weigh the options, see how it aligns with the path I want to take, then decide.”

“… How does _this_ -” Arthur gestures again, between them and then behind and in front of them, “’Align with the path you want to take’?”

“By not allowing you to look weak,” Preston side-eyes the younger man, “Or regretful. The Brotherhood without a unifying leader… I don’t think that’ll help anyone.”

“Am I a unifying leader?”

“You’re… You’re a symbol of the ideals,” Preston says quietly, “You represent something greater than yourself.”

Arthur hums then lets it taper off, looks down at his feet as he steps over a small puddle. 

Preston laughs quietly next to him and it startles him into looking back up.

The older man is studying him with a mix of mild amusement and regret, arms crossed over his chest. 

“You won’t remember any of this in the morning, will you?”

“I’m not sure.”

Preston shakes his head and points in the direction of the vertibird ahead of them. 

“Hope you can hold your liquor better than your tongue.” 


End file.
